


That Day

by menel



Series: Drifting [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years after Raleigh and Herc met at a bar in Manila, they meet again. Only this time, it’s the end of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ishyko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishyko/gifts).



The Hong Kong Shatterdome is both how Raleigh remembers it, but it also isn’t. The enormous metal dome looked magnificent to him, ravaged and war torn as it was, patched and re-patched. It was the grand old lady of the Pan Pacific Defense Corps and it was still standing, the first and last of its kind. It was hard to believe that the PPDC had gone from being at the forefront of the war effort, the defender of the Pacific Rim nations to the resistance as Marshal Stacker Pentecost had described it. The reality of the impending apocalypse had never felt more palpable to Raleigh than when he’d gazed at the war clock hung high above the entrance to the main hangar. 

Raleigh had only been to the Hong Kong Shatterdome once before. It had been seven years ago, when he and Yancy had been relatively new pilots. They’d been sent to Manila to run some tests on new Jaeger tech that had turned out some mixed results. They’d also recorded their second Kaiju kill in Manila and had regrouped to Hong Kong before shipping back to San Francisco and eventually Anchorage. What Raleigh most remembered about his first South East Asian trip was that it had coincided with his twenty-first birthday – still his most memorable birthday by far – since he’d spent most of the night with, as he found out later, Ranger Hercules Hansen. In hindsight, he couldn’t quite believe that he hadn’t recognized who Herc was right away. Herc Hansen was a living legend, a total rock star, although his son seemed eager enough to claim that mantle. Raleigh attributed it to his youth at the time, his distraction thanks to that ridiculous fight with Yancy, and his single-mindedness in finding a partner for the evening. Still, Herc Hansen wasn’t somebody you could forget. Even though he’d left the Jaeger Program after Yancy’s death, he’d pay attention if Herc were on the newsfeeds. Herc looked damn fine on TV, even better in person as he’d been reminded of earlier that day as Stacker Pentecost had, perhaps unknowingly, reintroduced them. 

Raleigh wasn’t going to lie to himself. He’d thought about Herc a lot over the years, and that one night in Manila had kept him warm on many a cold night in Alaska while he’d been working on the Anti-Kaiju Wall. It wasn’t love or anything like that, but it had been special. He was reminded of just how special as he’d found himself shaking Herc’s hand in the main bay of the Shatterdome, his heart _fucking fluttering_ in his chest as he’d calmly tried to talk about their first and last combat together in Manila. Herc had been relaxed, seemingly unperturbed by the whole situation, and it had made Raleigh feel like a kid all over again. Behind Herc was his son, Chuck, who’d looked at him murderously while his father greeted him. He and Herc were co-pilots now, the recent heroes of the Sydney attack. Chuck had to know. There were no secrets once you drifted. 

The truth was, Raleigh didn’t know how Herc would react to seeing him again. He’d found out the morning after that Herc had excused himself from the testing program in Manila, requesting another senior Ranger take his place for ‘personal reasons.’ Raleigh had been disappointed but he’d understood as well that it had been the right thing to do. Yancy, on the other hand, had been a lot less understanding when he’d found out how Raleigh had spent his birthday (there were no secrets once you drifted) and he’d nearly punched Herc’s lights out when they’d formally met in Manila after the Kaiju attack. (Raleigh understood afterwards that Yancy had been angrier with himself and their stupid fight, which had put Raleigh in that position to begin with.) Raleigh got the feeling that Chuck wasn’t going to be very understanding either if his unfriendly reception at the mess hall was anything to go by. Still, Chuck’s arrogance and rudeness did nothing to dampen the warmth he’d felt as Herc had surprised him with a full mess tray and had invited him to join the Australian crew of Striker Eureka at their table. Once Chuck had stormed off, that warmth had only grown as Herc had filled him in on the goings-on at the Shatterdome and the war in general, no matter how bleak that news proved to be. Their talk had remained strictly professional, but Raleigh was pushing the boundaries under the table as he’d discreetly rested his leg against Herc’s so that they were touching from knee to ankle. Herc didn’t move away and Raleigh took that as a positive sign. 

Raleigh followed his instincts after the meal as he and Herc casually walked back to the pilots’ quarters. Although their rooms weren’t in the same hallway, Raleigh stayed with Herc until they were standing outside what he presumed to be Herc’s door. Their conversation had drawn to an end and Raleigh was watching Herc carefully, wondering if he’d be invited in. Herc had been virtually unreadable the entire time. He was about to say his good-byes when Herc opened the door to his quarters and walked inside, pointedly leaving the door open. Raleigh took a quick peek in either direction of the hallway before following him. He’d barely closed the door before he found himself pinned against it, Herc leaning into him with his hands braced on either side of Raleigh’s head. 

“You,” the older man said slowly as he kissed the side of Raleigh’s neck, “are just one . . . walking . . . distraction.” 

Raleigh’s lips curved into a smile as Herc reached his jawline and then stopped. “Didn’t think you were interested anymore,” he admitted almost shyly. 

Herc pulled back and gave him an incredulous look to which Raleigh could only shrug. Seven years was a long time and a lot had changed. 

“You weren’t giving me much to go on,” Raleigh pointed out. 

“It’s called ‘professionalism,’ Raleigh,” Herc replied, a hint of fond exasperation in his voice. 

“Uh-huh. I guess fraternizing with your subordinates isn’t very professional.” 

“No,” Herc corrected. “Fucking your subordinates senseless isn’t very professional.” 

That was the best invitation Raleigh had heard so far and he pushed Herc towards the bed, shedding his pullover and his undershirt as he did so. He didn’t miss the way Herc’s gaze landed on the scars on the left side of his body where the outline of his drivesuit had been permanently etched on his skin. He’d never fully recovered from his solo combat in Gipsy Danger, mentally or physically. He’d healed well enough, but his right side was his superior side now, and he’d have to remember that once he got back in the conn-pod. He didn’t want Herc dwelling on his infirmities so he crowded into the other man’s space as he walked him backwards, fingers tugging at the hem of Herc’s shirt as he helped the other man pull it off. Then he was working on the buckle of Herc’s belt and that landed on the floor before they reached the bed, soon joined by Herc’s fatigues. 

“Still eager,” Herc noted as he sat on his narrow bunk, watching as Raleigh quickly stripped his pants and boxers. They were both already bootless. 

“But not so young,” Raleigh amended, pushing Herc back on the bed and straddling him. 

“Young enough,” Herc countered almost regretfully, running a hand up the smooth plane of Raleigh’s stomach before dropping it back to his waist. 

“You’re just feeling old, _old man_ ,” Raleigh teased, finally bringing their lips together.

* * * * *

Herc supposed it made a twisted kind of sense, like the universe was making it up to him for the giant cock-up the first time around. It only took something like the end of the world for Raleigh Becket to find his way back into Herc’s bed. Not that Herc wasn’t thankful or anything, no matter the number of complications this development was going to bring. It was, after all, _the end of the world_.

He was letting Raleigh sleep. The kid – Herc still thought of him that way even though it was hardly accurate – was tired. Stacker had tracked him down in Alaska, convinced him to return and then flown him back to the Hong Kong base. Mako had given him a tour of the facility and he’d barely had time to settle into his own quarters before he’d been dragged off to lunch. Herc had made sure that Raleigh had at least eaten well. He knew how bad the rationing had become outside. 

Stacker knew about what had happened between them in Manila, of course. He’d pried it out of Herc like the good friend he was, especially after Herc’s inexplicable run-in with Yancy after their successful mission. 

“We don’t need any extra complications,” Stacker had told him. 

“Relax,” Herc had replied. “I’m not fourteen.” 

Stacker had looked at him skeptically but had moved on to other business. In reality, Raleigh _did_ make him behave somewhat recklessly and Stacker was right to be wary. He cared for Raleigh, even when they had been strangers in a bar. He never thought of that night as a one-night stand. It didn’t matter if that one night was all he was ever going to get. But he also knew how badly Stacker needed Raleigh to come back. It wasn’t just that all the other Mark 3 pilots were dead, Raleigh had always been one of their finest. The Becket brothers had been the cream of the crop. Herc had kept tabs on them after Manila and with their all-American good looks and fighting skills, they’d become rock stars in their own right. Their fateful last battle in Anchorage had turned the tide of the Kaiju War. Everyone recognized it now as the beginning of the end. The Kaiju had adapted. No one understood how, but the monsters had. They were bigger, stronger, had learned the tactics used against them. They weren’t the mindless beasts that the human race had mistaken them for. That’s what Pentecost saw in Raleigh, an unpredictable, occasionally unorthodox but highly effective fighting style, something the Kaiju were unused to. But how could Raleigh harness that skill without finding a co-pilot that understood him intuitively? 

A loud banging at his door interrupted Herc’s thoughts. He glanced down to see if the noise had woken Raleigh up. It hadn’t. The banging sounded again and Herc grimaced. He knew _exactly_ who it was and he shifted over Raleigh’s sleeping form to get up and answer the door before his son made an even bigger racket. Raleigh made a noise of protest at his actions but didn’t fully awaken. Herc picked up his discarded shirt and slipped it on, together with his abandoned fatigues. He was presentable by the time he opened the door and Chuck’s hand was mid-air, ready to give the door another pounding. 

“What?” his son said irritably. “You’re locking your door in the middle of the afternoon?” 

“It’s called, ‘privacy.’” 

“ _In the middle of the afternoon_?” 

Chuck glanced down just then and Herc realized belatedly that he wasn’t wearing his boots. That wasn’t that uncommon, was it? Chuck’s look of disbelief told him otherwise. 

“You’re shitting me. You couldn’t even wait . . . what? A day?” Chuck was furious and his voice was rapidly rising. “Is he in there now?” he demanded. 

Chuck moved to enter the room and Herc blocked him, placing his hand on Chuck’s chest. 

“Easy now,” he said, pushing his son back out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. “This isn’t the time.” 

“You’re damn right this isn’t the time!” 

Herc sighed. “What do you need?” he asked, a tad too testily. 

Chuck was still glowering and for a moment Herc thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then Chuck exhaled loudly as if releasing his anger in that one breath and said quietly, “Pentecost is looking for you. He needs you at R&D.” 

“Tell him I’ll be right there.” 

“Dad –” 

“Not now.” 

There was a warning note in Herc’s voice that Chuck heeded and with a tight-lipped frown he walked away. Herc sighed again. Stacker’s words were echoing in his head, _We don’t need any extra complications_. Right. 

When Herc re-entered his room, Raleigh was awake and had propped himself against Herc’s pillows. Herc noted the flush of pleasure he derived from seeing Raleigh in his bed. It looked . . . right. 

“I guess you heard that?” he asked, walking back to the bed. 

“It was hard not to.” Raleigh paused. “I’m sorry,” he said as Herc sat at the edge of the bed and rummaged around for his socks. 

Herc paused when he found them and looked Raleigh straight in the eye as he said, “No, you’re not.” He could tell that Raleigh was trying not to grin. 

“I’m a _little_ sorry?” Raleigh amended, but the grin broke through. 

Herc shook his head fondly and went back to lacing up his boots. He felt a light touch on his elbow that stopped his actions. 

“Seriously, Herc. I don’t want to cause a rift between you and your son.” 

“I know,” Herc said quietly. “And don’t worry about it. Chuck and I already had problems before you came along. We’ll figure this out.” He hoped that Raleigh understood what he was really trying to say, that it would be _worth_ it to figure this out, for whatever time they had left. 

Raleigh nodded thoughtfully before he moved and sat next to Herc at the side of the bed. “I should get going too,” he said, sorting through his clothes on the floor. 

Herc put a hand on Raleigh’s knee to stop him. “Stay,” he said. 

Raleigh gave him a sly look. “We’re not at a hotel, y’know.” 

Herc shrugged and resumed lacing up his boots. “Stay anyway.” He could feel Raleigh watching him. 

“What if someone comes looking for me?” 

“I’ll tell them you’re resting,” Herc said, standing up. He looked down at the other man. “You really need it,” he added. “And unless you plan on hitting the Kwoon Combat Room to shake off that rust, Pentecost isn’t going to need you until tomorrow.” 

This time Raleigh didn’t hold back the grin. “You just want me in your bed.” 

Herc shrugged again. “It has its advantages,” he said heading for the door. “See you later?” he asked, just before he turned the knob. 

Raleigh had already stretched back out on the bed. He really did look like he belonged. 

“I’ll be here.”


	2. Chapter 2

After listening to the latest developments of their mad scientists at R&D, Herc got pulled into other duties as was often the case when you were Marshal Pentecost’s right-hand man. He didn’t mind. He was used to it. In a way, he even enjoyed the utter craziness of the Shatterdome, the constant state of high alert and the seemingly insurmountable odds stacked against them. It made him feel alive. Just like Raleigh did. 

It was a lot later than he expected when he made it back to his quarters, wondering if Raleigh would really still be there. He’d stopped by the mess and picked up two subs, two sodas and a salad, in case Raleigh liked that sort of thing. He didn’t particularly peg Raleigh for a healthy eater, especially with the rationing, but the guy was in peak physical shape from what he’d seen earlier. The universe would be mighty unfair if they’d just gifted Raleigh with that sort of body, but then again, the universe had been fucking with humanity for over a decade. 

When Herc unlocked the door to his quarters, his desk lamp had been left on, providing the only light in the otherwise dim room. Raleigh was still there, a sleeping form under his covers facing the wall. He’d cleaned his clothes up off the floor so that his pants now hung on Herc’s desk chair, his pullover folded on top of them and his boots off to the side. That meant Raleigh was probably wearing his boxers and his cotton white undershirt. It was understandable. The Shatterdome could get chilly at night. 

Herc walked in and put the food on top of his semi-cluttered desk, which was right beside the bed. He sat down beside Raleigh, placing an arm around the other man’s waist and briefly contemplated letting him sleep some more before nudging him awake on his shoulder. 

“Been sleeping all this time?” 

There was a yawn, followed by a drowsy, “Just following orders.” Raleigh turned over, rubbing his left eye as he adjusted to the dim lighting. “Jesus, what time is it?” he asked when he took in his surroundings. 

“Relax, princess. It’s not yet midnight,” Herc assured him. “It’s after eight.” 

Raleigh sighed. “There goes dinner.” 

“Brought it with me,” Herc said, reaching over and tossing Raleigh one of the subs. It looked like a Classic Italian. Raleigh caught it easily. 

“Room service? You’ll spoil me.” 

“Better not get used to it,” Herc told him. “There’s a salad too,” he added, in a semi-inquiring tone. 

Raleigh laughed. “You’re just like Yancy. Making sure I eat all my veggies.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Herc said, the comparison somewhat disconcerting him. “Wasn’t sure if you were that type of eater.” 

After all, it’s not like they’d spent a lot of time together _outside_ of the bedroom. There was no denying the chemistry, but there was actually very little they knew about each other beyond what they’d seen on newsfeeds and heard through the PPDC grapevine. 

Raleigh began to undo the cellophane wrapping of his sub and then took a large bite. Herc did the same, moving to the desk chair first and shifting it so that it faced the bed. After a few moments of quiet eating, he said, “I’m sorry about your brother.” 

Raleigh’s eyes widened slightly at Herc’s statement, the comment taking him by surprise and Herc watched as the other man had to force down a bite that he’d almost choked on. “Yeah, you said that earlier,” Raleigh said when he could finally speak again. 

“I know,” Herc agreed. “It’s just . . . I couldn’t imagine going through that and still surviving. That took a lot of courage.” Herc stopped speaking when he saw that Raleigh was staring at him and he realized how personal the conversation had become. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said, pushing the topic aside and taking another bite of his sub. 

Raleigh looked down at his sandwich but didn’t resume eating. Herc mentally kicked himself. Of all the things to bring up. He knew about what had happened at Anchorage or at least what the reports had told him, not to mention what he’d gotten out of Stacker and Tendo. He’d also pulled strings to get access to Raleigh’s psych evaluations before the PPDC had discharged him. Calling it a bad time would’ve been a major understatement. 

“I was fucked up for a long time,” Raleigh said, slicing through the tension that Herc had inadvertently created. 

Herc wasn’t going to say that he knew that, that Raleigh had been placed on suicide watch. He wasn’t going to tell him that he’d seriously considered visiting Raleigh at the hospital and then in the psychiatric ward, but he hadn’t been sure if it would’ve been appropriate or if he would’ve even been welcome. 

“I was still connected to Yancy when he died,” Raleigh went on and the admission absolutely chilled Herc. It was unthinkable, a living nightmare. “I felt everything. And then there was nothing. It was like a piece of my soul had been ripped out and I had died with him.” 

“Raleigh,” Herc said. It was selfish to stop Raleigh when he’d been the one to bring up the subject, but the rawness of Raleigh’s pain was still palpable, even after all these years. It was . . . overwhelming. Raleigh had been intently staring at his sandwich as he’d spoken. Now when he looked up, Herc saw all the things he didn’t want to see – the vulnerability, the uncertainty, the fear. 

“I don’t know if I can drift again,” Raleigh admitted and Herc understood everything that hadn’t been said. That drifting with someone else would reopen a wound that had never healed. It would mean sharing yourself intimately with a complete stranger, when that kind of intimacy had only been reserved for family, for someone you loved. It would mean sharing, not only yourself, but your brother too, even when those memories should only have been meant for you. 

War was never fair, but the injustice of Raleigh’s situation made Herc’s heart ache. It was wrong to ask someone so damaged to go back out on the front line, but that’s precisely what they were doing. What other alternative was there? Despite what his son thought, Herc knew that Raleigh running defense in Gipsy Danger was the best chance Striker Eureka would have of delivering the payload. But that meant drifting and Herc wasn’t sure that Raleigh was ready for that, if Raleigh would ever be ready for that. 

“Tomorrow could be a total disaster,” Raleigh said, as if reading his thoughts. 

Herc had never been good with words. Raleigh was seeking reassurance and there was nothing to say. He wrapped up the rest of his uneaten sandwich, placing it back on his desk before leaning over and doing the same to Raleigh’s sub. Raleigh let him take it, watching him all the while. Then Herc undressed until he too was down to his white undershirt and boxers. Raleigh took the hint and lifted the covers to allow Herc to slip in beside him. Herc’s bunk was hardly big enough for two grown men, but they somehow managed even if it meant that Raleigh was half-draped over the other man as Herc’s right arm curled around him. 

“Never would’ve guessed you were the cuddling type,” Raleigh said after a few moments of silence. 

“Not much choice in this narrow bed,” Herc replied. 

“If you say so,” Raleigh said in a tone that implied he didn’t quite believe Herc. 

Practical considerations aside, it was true that ‘cuddling’ wasn’t in Herc’s vocabulary. Affection didn’t come easily to him, physically or otherwise. But when it came to Raleigh, physical intimacy had always been easy. Perhaps that was unsurprising given that physical intimacy was the basis of their entire relationship, but Herc was rapidly learning that being with Raleigh was always going to be about more than just the sex, even if his son had gotten the impression that they were behaving like horny teenagers. 

“About tomorrow,” Herc said after another silence. He could feel Raleigh tense beside him. “We’ll take it one step at a time.” He paused, feeling the tension drain from Raleigh’s body as the other man exhaled. “And try not to beat the candidates too badly. We are looking for someone compatible.” 

This last comment made Raleigh chuckle. “What happened to shaking off the rust?” 

“Yeah, well. From what Tendo tells me, your rust is most people’s good days.”

* * * * *

Raleigh had been tempted to spend his first night in Hong Kong in Herc’s room, but Chuck notwithstanding, they were aiming for a level of discretion and folks at the PPDC were early risers. While the shifts at LOCCENT turned over like clockwork, it would be a lot harder to sneak out in the morning than, say, after midnight, which is precisely what Raleigh was doing now as he walked the empty corridors back to his own quarters. As Raleigh rounded the corner to his room, the rhythmic thumping of a ball being bounced off the wall greeted him. Even before Raleigh saw the person, he caught sight of a wagging tail and knew who it was. _Shit. Were they really going to have it out now?_

“Isn’t this past your bedtime?” Raleigh greeted Chuck, who was standing outside his door. 

Chuck caught the small handball he’d been bouncing and turned to face the other man with a scowl. “I’d say it was past _your_ bedtime,” he returned. 

Raleigh nodded with a grin. God, Herc was going to kill him. “It is,” he agreed. 

Chuck looked outraged and he opened his mouth to say something but shut it just as quickly, the scowl on his face set even deeper than before. 

“You mind?” Raleigh motioned at his door as he moved towards it, but Chuck blocked his path until they were almost chest-to-chest. Chuck was slightly taller than him and stockier too, but Raleigh was certain he could hold his own – probably even take the bigger man down if it came to that. He _hoped_ it wouldn’t come to that, but he could tell right away that Chuck was used to using his physicality to intimidate people. It’s too bad that tactic had never worked on him. 

“Stay away from my dad,” Chuck said, voice low and deathly serious. The quiet menace was a contrast to the vocal anger that Raleigh had associated with the younger Hansen. Its unexpectedness made it more effective. 

Raleigh eyed him, equally serious now and all levity gone from his voice. “I think your dad is capable of making his own decisions,” he said, just as evenly. 

Chuck crowded even nearer if that was remotely possible. “You’re no good for him. And he needs his head on straight. No distractions.” 

Dimly, Raleigh was aware that there was truth in Chuck’s words. None of them could afford to be distracted, not when the future of the world was at stake. But that’s where he and Chuck differed because he didn’t see his presence (or Herc’s presence) as a distraction to either of them. In fact, Raleigh would go so far as to say that he _needed_ Herc now, much more than the older man needed him. Raleigh no longer had an anchor and Herc could be that if the other man was willing. He had been drifting for so long. If only there were some way to make Chuck understand that. He was about to say something along those lines when he noticed that Chuck was looking at him in a way that he couldn’t quite place. The anger had dissipated and the tension was shifting between them. Raleigh could sense it but he couldn’t follow it, much less understand it. Chuck was breathing heavily, as though he’d just exerted himself. Raleigh was aware of his nearness and his body heat, and for one wild, crazy moment he actually thought that – 

Max barked and Chuck startled backward in surprise, looking down at his dog. Raleigh was too confused to react. When Chuck looked up again, there was irritation written all over his face and something else too. Annoyance? Regret? It didn’t make sense. 

“Stay away from my dad,” he repeated, roughly pushing past Raleigh. 

Raleigh let him go, perplexed and relieved that the bizarre encounter was over and no punches had been thrown. All he knew was that his life had just gotten a lot more complicated.


	3. Chapter 3

The day hadn’t been a total disaster, Raleigh reflected in the bay that overlooked his one and only lady, Gipsy Danger. But it had come close. _Very_ close. 

The candidate testing had gone smoothly at the Kwoon Combat Room that morning. Everyone who had been off-duty had crowded as much as possible into the entrance of the room to try to get a peek at the trials. Jaeger pilots were a dying breed and the search for Raleigh’s co-pilot was the most coveted position in the PPDC, even though Raleigh privately considered himself to be damaged goods. His future co-pilot was going to be in for a helluva shock when they finally drifted and he wasn’t particularly looking forward to the experience, as much as he longed to feel the strength and power of Gipsy Danger again. 

Raleigh had taken Herc’s advice to heart and hadn’t beaten any of the candidates too badly. It’s not that he had gone easy on them (well, not _that_ easy), he just hadn’t embarrassed any of them. In the end, it had been the right approach because it had allowed him to question Mako’s evident displeasure at his performance. Mako calling him out on holding back had also been the right lead-in to goad Pentecost into allowing his prized pupil to present herself as a viable candidate. They had sparred effortlessly, their compatibility sizzling and igniting the air around them, as Raleigh had already suspected it would. There had been something about Mako from the very beginning. It had probably been the moment in his quarters when she had so brutally analyzed his fighting technique and then had looked up at in him shock, as though she’d forgotten some sort of polite cultural filter. Raleigh had been surprised and inwardly pleased by her honest response. He had known then that Mako wasn’t like the others; that beneath her critique of his fighting style was an understanding and an admiration to work with him as well. 

Raleigh had caught Chuck’s eye when the trials had ended as the other participants and onlookers dispersed. Chuck had been near the front and had had a perfect view of the session. Raleigh had been aware of his presence but hadn’t let it distract him. He knew that Chuck had been studying his moves, and as the other man had held his gaze, Raleigh’s thoughts briefly flicked back to their unusual encounter the night before. He still hadn’t been able to piece together Chuck’s strange behavior and beneath the smugness he saw now, he thought he detected other emotions under the surface – a grudging respect, and a lingering confusion. He wondered if that confusion was reflected in his own expression. 

Despite Pentecost’s firm refusal, Mako was the one who had appeared in the conn-pod for the trial run. Raleigh had been pleased to see her, but that’s when the good part of his day ended since it had all gone to shit from there. Their neural handshake had been strong, but Raleigh had faltered, a memory of Yancy entering his thoughts that had dropped him out of alignment. Mako, in her inexperience, fell out of alignment as well but instead of recovering, as Raleigh quickly did, she had chased one of her most potent memories down the rabbit hole and the next few minutes had been complete pandemonium in the Shatterdome. Raleigh had been unable to reach her and as her memory had grown in intensity, Raleigh honestly thought that she would discharge the plasma cannon in the bay and kill them all. He’d followed her closely, and as the memory had drawn to a close and Mako’s fear had subsided, Raleigh discovered the missing piece in her complicated relationship with Marshal Stacker Pentecost. 

Waiting outside Pentecost’s office as Chuck had screamed at his commanding officer and his father had brought Raleigh back to his school days of waiting outside the Principal’s office with the kid with the bloody nose that he’d probably caused by allowing himself to be provoked. Only this time the kid was Mako, his new co-pilot, and she hadn’t provoked him in any way. On the contrary, she had relied on him, on his _experience_ and he had let her down. He had resolved to take the blame for their fuck-up when the door to Pentecost’s office had opened and Chuck had stormed out. There was no confusion or ambivalence as Chuck had glared at him and leveled a few choice words in their direction before Herc came out and stopped him. 

“Wait here,” Herc had ordered as he’d calmed Chuck down somewhat. He had spared Raleigh his own unreadable glance before re-entering Pentecost’s office. Raleigh had felt suitably chastised, the weight of Herc’s regard and disappointment washing over him. 

However, Chuck’s hot-headedness wouldn’t allow him to let things be and as soon as his father had disappeared behind closed doors, he was on Raleigh and Mako again. Raleigh’s fuse was already short and an insult to Mako was all it took for him to teach the younger Hansen a lesson. He didn’t hold back and while part of him was aware that this was _absolutely the wrong thing to do_ , another part of him was glad for the physical and emotional release. He’d been in Hong Kong for less than forty-eight hours and his whole life had been turned upside down. At least, fighting was still something he knew how to do. That thought fled instantly when Herc appeared again, an incredulous look on his face when he saw that Raleigh had effectively pinned his son to the ground. Raleigh hoped that Herc could read the apology in his eyes, but he also knew that his body language spoke of defiance. He truly felt that Chuck had had it coming to him. 

The powwow in Pentecost’s office had been unpleasant. Mako had been close to tears and the two of them were grounded even before they had a chance to take Gipsy Danger out. Raleigh had stopped her in the corridor outside their quarters after they’d left Pentecost. Their conversation had been terse and brief, but what had struck Raleigh about it was Mako’s curious comment: 

“You have a complicated relationship with Ranger Hercules Hansen.” 

Raleigh had been on the defensive immediately. Mako knew. Of course, she did. 

“And you,” he had said, “have a complicated relationship with Marshal Stacker Pentecost.” 

Mako looked like she’d just been slapped in the face. Raleigh had instantly wanted to apologize but she’d already turned away from him, opening the door to her room and disappearing inside. Raleigh had stood in the corridor alone and sighed. First Chuck, then Herc, then Pentecost and now Mako. He really needed to work on his people skills.

* * * * *

The tension in the mess hall during dinner had been unbearable. Raleigh had caught Mako’s eye as she’d entered the mess with her own tray and by silent agreement, despite the unkind words he had said to her earlier, they ended up eating at the landing that overlooked Gipsy Danger. Raleigh had apologized straightaway for his thoughtlessness and Mako had gracefully accepted his apology. After that there had been no tension between them and Raleigh found himself relaxed in her company. It was easy to be with her. She was the right choice to be his new partner. Their conversation took a turn for the surreal when Mako brought up the Hansens again.

“I did not mean to pry,” she began, “when I mentioned your relationship with Hercules Hansen.” 

They were sitting side-by-side on the iron railing of the landing and Raleigh glanced at her, slightly surprised but not defensive like he had been before. In fact, the way Mako had said the word ‘relationship’ had actually made him smile. 

“It is none of my business,” she went on, but there was a look of determination on her features that told Raleigh she wasn’t finished. 

“We’ve only drifted once,” Raleigh told her. “But in a way, I guess it is your business.” 

Mako smiled a little ruefully. “It is strange,” she admitted. “Having all these thoughts that do not belong to me. I had not anticipated the . . . intimacy.” 

There really was no other word for it, Raleigh thought. When you drifted, you were in someone else’s head. It was more intimate than sex. Mako now knew him better than Herc did, and didn’t that realization put things in perspective. 

“I have known Chuck since I was very young,” Mako went on, the direction of the conversation taking Raleigh by surprise. “Our fathers are very close and we have spent a lot of time together.” 

Raleigh figured there was no point dancing around the subject of Pentecost. He was glad that Mako had called him her ‘father.’ 

“He is almost like my brother despite his harsh words to me earlier.” 

Suddenly, Raleigh knew exactly where Mako was headed and he looked at her as he said, “You saw what happened between us last night.” 

Mako’s sudden flush of embarrassment told him that he was right. 

“I went out several times and asked him to stop bouncing that ball,” she said irritably. 

“You should’ve confiscated it,” Raleigh said, only half-jokingly. 

The look that Mako gave him told him that she had been sorely tempted. “Chuck is very stubborn,” she stated. 

“Hmm . . . a Hansen family trait, I imagine.” 

“A Becket family trait too, I think?” 

The observation made Raleigh laugh. “Yeah, you got me there,” he agreed. 

“Chuck is not really angry with you,” Mako continued. “And he is right to be concerned for his father.” 

“Yeah, I get that,” Raleigh said quietly. “I really do.” He shook his head, focusing on the nameplate on Gipsy’s shoulder. “Things are moving so fast.” And by that, he meant _everything_. “There’s no time to sit down and sort shit out.” 

Mako made a soft noise of agreement. “But Chuck,” Mako began again and Raleigh was really starting to wonder why she was pushing the topic so forcefully. “His feelings towards you are . . . complicated.” 

Uh-huh. 

“You may not believe it, but he holds you in high regard.” 

Raleigh couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re right,” he said, grinning at her. “I don’t believe it.” 

But Mako remained quiet and serious, studying him with those deep brown eyes. “I, too, hold you in high regard.” 

Raleigh’s good mood dampened somewhat and he shook his head. “You really shouldn’t,” he told her. 

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “It is deserved,” she said honestly. 

Raleigh shook his head again, but he returned Mako’s comforting squeeze. “It needs to be earned,” he replied. 

Someone cleared their throat behind them and Raleigh quickly looked back, embarrassed that he’d let his guard down so easily. Mako was even quicker, getting to her feet and standing at attention. God, it was Herc. 

“Mako,” Herc said. “You’re needed at LOCCENT.” 

“Yes, sir,” she said with a brief nod. She glanced back at Raleigh and gave him a small reassuring smile before leaving. 

Raleigh was about to stand up as well but Herc aborted his action by asking, “Mind if I join you?” He was gesturing at Mako’s recently vacated spot. 

“Be my guest,” Raleigh answered not quite sure how to treat the other man. Humor was one of his defense mechanisms and he could feel it snapping into place. 

“You two all right?” Herc asked, looking straight at Gipsy Danger. 

“Pretty good, considering.” Raleigh shrugged. “Drift was intense, though.” The drift was _always_ intense, but he knew that Herc would understand what he meant. 

“That’s an understatement,” Herc agreed and Raleigh got the impression that Herc wasn’t there to talk about how poorly the trial run had gone. It was probably for the best. 

“You’re not jealous of Mako, are you?” Raleigh asked, bumping Herc’s shoulder with his own in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

Herc gave him a sidelong glance that made Raleigh feel like he was twelve and he couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I think if there’s anyone I should be jealous of,” Herc began. “It ought to be your lady here.” He nodded towards Gipsy Danger and Raleigh felt his chest swell with pride. The love he felt for that Jaeger was bordering on insane. 

“You got that right,” Raleigh said with a soft smile. Then he sighed. “How’s Chuck?” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Herc had tensed slightly. 

“All right,” Herc replied. “I think you bruised his ego more than anything else.” 

“I guess this is the part where you give me the ‘Sorry, this isn’t going to work out’ and ‘Stop beating up on my son,’ speech?” 

Herc shook his head. “No, not really.” He paused. “But you gotta stop beating up on my son.” 

“Even if he deserves it?” 

“Even if he deserves it,” Herc said firmly. 

“Fine,” Raleigh agreed. “I’ll be the mature one.” 

“Chuck doesn’t really hate you, y’know.” 

“It’s weird,” Raleigh said thoughtfully. He looked at Herc. “Mako just sort of said the same thing. What am I missing here?” 

Judging by the look on Herc’s face, Raleigh was missing an awful lot and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear about it anymore. 

It was Herc’s turn to sigh and his gaze drifted over Gipsy Danger again. “Chuck grew up with posters of Gipsy Danger in his room. It was always the Becket brothers this and the Becket brothers that. I had to compete with you in the hero-worship stakes.” 

Raleigh was stunned. In those early years, despite his cockiness and his youth, he’d never been entirely comfortable with the fame that came with being a successful Jaeger pilot. He’d loved what he did, but he would’ve skipped all the press if he could. Unfortunately, that had been impossible. He and Yancy had quickly become the poster-boys of the American division of the Jaeger Program and he’d always thought it strange that they had fans. Geezus, that was what Herc was saying, wasn’t it? That Chuck had been a _fan_ of his growing up. Could things get any weirder? 

Raleigh’s brow furrowed as he thought of an appropriate response. What could you say to that? He could feel Herc gauging his reaction. All he could do was shrug. The action was a combination of bewilderment and helplessness. Finally he said, “Well, the people you idolize growing up rarely ever meet your expectations. It’s no wonder I’ve been a disappointment to him.” 

That was a sensible response, wasn’t it? The expression on Herc’s face didn’t reassure Raleigh. Instead, he got the impression that he was still missing something. 

“It wasn’t just hero-worship,” Herc said after a moment. 

Something clicked. 

“No way,” Raleigh said in complete disbelief. 

Mako’s words were starting to make a lot more sense, _His feelings towards you are . . . complicated._ Messed up seemed more appropriate. Raleigh was quickly connecting the dots. 

“But that means,” he began and then stopped abruptly, looking at Herc in shock. “That means that the first time you two drifted . . .” He couldn’t even finish the sentence but the look on Herc’s face was answer enough. “Shit!” he exclaimed. 

“Yeah.” Herc sighed into the quiet that followed Raleigh’s outburst. 

“You know what this is?” Raleigh asked after a while. “We’re in a Mexican telenovela. Some kind of apocalyptic, science fiction, Mexican telenovela.” 

“I don’t think Mexicans have apocalyptic, science fiction telenovelas,” Herc stated. He glanced at Raleigh. “Should I be concerned that you know so much about Mexican telenovelas?” 

Raleigh burst out laughing. It was the only reaction that made sense. It was the end of the world and somehow he’d been written into a telenovela. “Shit,” he said again when his laughter subsided. “What are we going to do?” 

Herc never got a chance to answer because the klaxons began blaring, mobilizing the Shatterdome in preparation for a Kaiju attack. Even ongoing telenovelas had to pause in the face of the apocalypse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are wondering how Herc went from being a 'Marshal' in the earlier stages of the story to being a 'Ranger' here as Mako calls him, it's because elsewherewolf kindly explained the ranking system to me and I've adjusted the fic accordingly. Many thanks to her for the help!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! If you're following this story, then you'll know that I'm sticking fairly closely to the canon of the film. With that in mind, I've stretched the timeline to accommodate the ending and resolve the complications that the fic deals with. 
> 
> I also have a small request at the end of the story, and any responses would be appreciated. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Raleigh was too wired to sleep. He was always like this after combat, more energy than should have been humanly possible. Being the calmer of the two brothers, Yancy had been able to switch off after a fight but he’d humored Raleigh with some physical activity, usually light sparring, until Raleigh had burned off the adrenaline high. Mako, in her first experience of combat – a true baptism by fire – had gone to her room to get what little rest she could. They were all mindful of Gottlieb’s prediction of an increase in the frequency and scale of the events, and there had been no time for celebration. The war clock had been immediately reset. 

Still, Raleigh found himself wandering the halls of the Shatterdome. Tonight was particularly bad as memories of Yancy that he’d kept locked away rippled through his thoughts as an after-effect of the drift. He hadn’t felt this close to his brother in years but disconnecting the neural link had left him feeling raw and empty again. That, coupled with taking down two Category IV Kaiju in one night after not seeing any action for five years meant that he wasn’t doing too well right now. His first instinct had been to seek Herc out but the other man had been shuttered away with Pentecost since being released from the med bay and he wasn’t about to disturb them. 

He wasn’t surprised that he ended up at the Kwoon Combat Room. It was the best place to burn off this energy, the side effect of the physical activity giving his mind some peace. Even without a sparring partner, he could run through some katas. What he hadn’t anticipated, especially at that hour, was that the room would already be occupied, or indeed, the occupant of the room. 

Chuck Hansen. 

Of course. 

Raleigh was not an indecisive man and with a deep breath, he strode inside, inwardly surprised at his own calm and determination. Chuck was doing some warm-up stretches when Raleigh walked right over to him. 

“Need a sparring partner?” he asked. 

Chuck was sitting down, legs stretched before him as he leaned over and easily grasped his toes. He sat back slowly and Raleigh had to give him credit. The other man was more limber than his build would have suggested. He looked up at Raleigh and for the first time Raleigh saw that there was no anger or irritation in the other man’s expression. Instead, he looked curious, perhaps a little cautious. 

“Sure,” Chuck at last. “Can’t sleep?” he added as Raleigh began to do his own stretches beside him. 

Raleigh threw him an appraising look. “Who can sleep after that?” 

Chuck grinned. He understood. 

They continued their warm-up in silence for several more minutes before standing up. Chuck went over to the weapons rack and took down two pairs of arnis sticks, holding one set up, tacitly asking for Raleigh’s approval. Raleigh nodded and Chuck tossed him the second pair of sticks. 

They circled each other at the center of the room, Raleigh adjusting to the weight and feel of the arnis sticks in his hands. Kali or arnis was one of his favorite martial arts. He’d gotten additional training in the Philippines during his short time there from some of the country’s masters. It was, after all, their martial art. 

The first few strikes were perfunctory and easily deflected. Both of them were testing each other’s boundaries. Raleigh was aware that without a referee, things could quickly get out of hand, depending upon Chuck’s volatile nature and his own equally volatile mood. He wasn’t going to let that happen. When Chuck made the first real attack, Raleigh defended but eventually let him take the point. 

Chuck stepped back in surprise, pointing his right stick at Raleigh. “Don’t you dare go easy on me,” he warned. He understood what had just happened. 

Raleigh shrugged. “This is just friendly sparring,” he reminded Chuck. 

Chuck grinned. Raleigh had never seen him so open, so disarmingly charming. The kid must’ve been spoiled rotten growing up with a doting father like Herc. 

“Then let’s spar,” Chuck challenged, with no malice or anger, only with that genuine youthful smile that made him seem so much younger than Raleigh. 

Raleigh grinned back.

* * * * *

The session lasted much longer than either of them anticipated, since neither one of them was willing to concede. Nor were they out to truly hurt each other, though each of them had landed a few well-placed blows that they were certainly going to feel in the morning. Their sparring turned into a kind of dance, one that was not particularly fluid or graceful, but effective nonetheless. It informed them that they were not truly compatible, but with their combined experience could likely manage a neural handshake and form a competent fighting team, if it ever came to that. Still, they would never move with the intuitive ease and efficiency that they shared with their own co-pilots, and perhaps that was the way it was supposed to be.

When Raleigh had pinned Chuck for the fourth time (Chuck had pinned him thrice – hey, they were both keeping count), he leaned over the larger man and said, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t have a whole lot left in the tank.” 

Chuck smirked. “Conceding?” he asked. 

Raleigh gave him a wry grin. “Why don’t we call it even?” he suggested. “Unless you want to be all official with the scoring.” He knew he’d won by a slight margin. Judging by the look on Chuck’s face, he knew that too. 

“Fine,” Chuck agreed. “Let’s call it even.” 

Raleigh was about to move off of the other man when he was roughly tugged down by the front of his shirt while another hand clamped down on the back of his neck and held him in place as Chuck kissed him. He was too shocked to react at first, but when his brain finally caught up to what his lips had figured out, he surprised himself by not resisting Chuck’s advances, but not exactly participating either. It was a closed-mouth kiss, albeit a rather forceful one. Chuck was clearly not one for finesse. But when he felt the wetness of a tongue dart out and glide across the seam of his lips, Raleigh sighed softly against the other man and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing and he could sense the surprise in Chuck at his acceptance. All he knew was that if Chuck was going to ambush him with a make-out session on the floor of the Kwoon Combat Room, he was damn well going to take control of it, whether Chuck wanted him to or not. Apparently, Chuck had no objections as he followed Raleigh’s lead. 

When Raleigh finally pulled away, his hands were braced on either side of Chuck’s head and he was still leaning over the other man, close enough to see how Chuck’s pupils had blown wide and feel how heavily Chuck was breathing. 

“You little sneak,” Raleigh told him. 

Chuck grinned again, hands lightly holding Raleigh’s waist. He wasn’t feeling Raleigh up inappropriately, but it did make Raleigh wonder at Chuck’s self-control because it was evident that he wanted to. 

“Come on,” Chuck said, eyes darting back to Raleigh’s mouth, before meeting the other man’s gaze. “I had to try. At least once. Probably won’t get another opportunity. Y’know, the whole end of the world and . . .” 

_. . . the fact that I’m doing your dad_ , Raleigh mentally finished. 

Raleigh got up this time and Chuck didn’t stop him. He held out his right hand and the other man grasped it, allowing Raleigh to pull him to his feet. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew that things were going to be all right between them. 

“You hungry?” he asked.

* * * * *

Herc felt a twinge in his injured shoulder. Of all the stupid times to go and break his arm when they were on the verge of the PPDC’s biggest operation, not to mention their last-ditch effort to save humanity. He had no one else to blame but himself since it had been his idea to step out of the harness in the conn-pod. It hadn’t been a bad idea, per se. It just happened to have _really bad timing_. Now with his arm in a sling, there was no way he could pilot a Jaeger and after his meeting with Pentecost, it was clear that there was only one viable option to replace him in Striker Eureka. While there was no one else that he’d trust with the life of his son, that knowledge didn’t prevent him from being wracked with guilt for not being able to be there for Chuck. He was his _father_ , dammit. If they were going to be sent on a suicide mission, they should do it _together_.

His relationship with Chuck had always been turbulent but Herc discovered that he wasn’t heading to his son’s quarters. No, his subconscious had sent him looking for Raleigh. There was a chance that Raleigh was waiting for him in his quarters – the kid was presumptuous enough – but Herc played it safe and went to Raleigh’s room first. When no one answered at his knock, he left, slightly disappointed but hoping that Raleigh was actually in his room. Otherwise, he’d have to go searching for him in the Shatterdome and it had been too long a day for that. He passed by the mess and the sound of a boisterous, familiar laugh stopped him. That was Chuck. Herc paused at the entrance of the mess and couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. The mess was empty save for the two figures that were seated opposite each other at Striker’s table. Herc stepped into the hall and approached them slowly, certain that the hallucination would disappear in a moment. Chuck looked up and saw him. 

“Dad!” he called, waving Herc over. 

The sound of Chuck’s voice addressing him snapped Herc out of his stupor and he strode over to their table, brow slightly furrowed by his puzzlement. Chuck looked happy, happier than Herc had seen his son in a long while. It made him seem young. Raleigh looked content and calm. There was a challenge and a touch of amusement in his eyes when he met Herc’s gaze. And my god, there was Max. Protective and loyal Max, who only showed his affection to the Hansen family, was sitting beside Raleigh on the bench, wagging his tail as Raleigh fed him off his own plate. Raleigh had even managed to charm their _dog_. 

For a moment, Herc was at a loss as to where to sit but the decision proved to be easy in the end. He slipped in next to his son, since Raleigh already had the company of Max. 

“Hungry?” Chuck asked him, pushing a still warm bamboo container of dumplings towards him. 

“Shark’s fin,” Raleigh told him. 

Herc took his son’s chopsticks and picked up one of the shark’s fin dumplings. There was also what looked like bowls of braised beef noodle soup in front of the two men. 

“Where’d you get all this food?” Herc asked. It was all freshly made. 

“Your son is quite the charmer.” 

Chuck beamed but shrugged off-handedly, as if his actions had been no big deal. “Talked Lin into rustling something up for us,” he replied. 

“At one o’clock in the morning?” Herc asked disbelievingly. Shi Lin was the cantankerous old cook of the Hong Kong Shatterdome. 

“Quite the charmer,” Raleigh repeated, as if he hadn’t done his own share of charming that evening. 

Herc shook his head, letting the subject drop and picking up another dumpling. 

“This one’s pork,” Raleigh said, pushing another bamboo container in Herc’s direction. 

Herc accepted the container, amused that their roles had been reversed so quickly. Now Raleigh was feeding him. 

“So, I was telling Rally,” Chuck began. 

_Rally_? Herc wondered, but Chuck was rattling on. 

“ . . . that when all this is over, he should come back to Sydney with us. Can you believe he’s never visited Australia?” Chuck paused and said to Raleigh, “You’re missing out, mate.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Raleigh answered, but he was looking right at Herc with that same expression of challenge and amusement that Herc saw when he first sat down with them. Herc may not have been big on verbal expression, but they really needed to talk. 

Herc let the conversation wash over him, eventually stealing Chuck’s unfinished bowl of braised beef noodles. Chuck was enthused, talking about his hometown (he was a true city kid) and his interests (he was a total sports fanatic and played just about _everything_ ). It was startling to listen to such a _normal_ conversation, one that wasn’t about war or the end of the world. It was even more startling to know that this was his _son_ , who sounded happy and made Herc think that he hadn’t done such a poor job of raising him after all. 

It was also hero-worship gone right, Herc reflected, as Raleigh listened intently, joining in at the appropriate times, challenging, teasing, cajoling, but never pushing things too far. Without the complicated rivalry (to be the better pilot, to gain Herc’s affection, to gain Raleigh’s affection), all of which had originated from his son, the two got on well. It wasn’t that surprising really. Raleigh _had_ lived up to Chuck’s dreams of him. 

“Contact sports?” Chuck was scoffing. “Play rugby and I’ll show you a _real_ contact sport. None of that pansy American football with all that padding.” 

“You just want a chance to tackle me.” 

“Hey, whatever gets me closer to you.” 

Herc almost choked. Was that his son _flirting_? 

But Raleigh laughed it off and said, “I’d like to see you hit a 96mph fastball.” 

“Baseball? That’s got to be the most boring sport in the world.” 

“Hey, don’t go dissing my country’s national pastime,” Raleigh warned. “You want to talk about boring sports? Cricket, man. What the hell is that?” 

“An acquired taste,” Chuck shot back. 

There was a pleasant vibe at the table and the conversation appeared to have run its course. They’d finished the food as well and Max was looking at Raleigh’s empty bowl longingly. Raleigh rubbed him behind the ears as if to apologize for not having anything else to give him. 

“Well, I’m beat,” Chuck stated. “Gonna turn in. Any news about Operation Pitfall?” he asked, swiveling around to face Herc. 

“We’ll head out as soon as Gipsy and Striker are re-fitted,” Herc told him. 

“But dad, your arm –” 

“We’ve got that sorted,” Herc assured him. “Get some rest.” 

Chuck looked like he was about to object, but he nodded instead and stood up. He gave Raleigh a faint smile and patted his dad on the shoulder as he passed behind him. 

“You two need to keep it behind closed doors,” Chuck casually threw back over his shoulder as he left the table. 

If Herc had still been eating, he would’ve choked for sure. That was the most tacit permission he could ever hope get out of his son. 

“You’re the one that nearly broke _down_ the door,” Raleigh threw back at him. 

Chuck didn’t turn around but he lifted his hand in acknowledgement, Max trotting beside him.

* * * * *

“So,” Raleigh said to Herc when they were finally alone.

Herc was literally speechless. 

“I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Raleigh said, as if to fill up the silence between them. 

“Uh, no,” Herc said slowly. “That wasn’t what I was thinking at all.” Not _really_. 

Raleigh looked like he was about to call him out on that but he grinned instead. “I did kiss him though.” He paused. “Well, technically, he kissed me first but I . . .” he searched for the right word. “Reciprocated,” he said at last. 

“Uh-huh,” Herc said. “Just . . . getting rid of the tension?” 

“Nah, we did that in the Combat Room. I call it Fight-or-Fuck Syndrome. Your son ambushed me with the kiss afterwards.” 

“The one that you . . . _reciprocated_?” 

Raleigh laughed, standing up as well. “Jealousy becomes you, old man,” he teased. “Let’s go.” 

Herc was looking up at Raleigh in complete amazement. “Who _are_ you?” he asked. 

Raleigh shrugged. “I was kinda hoping to be your boyfriend,” he answered with the same smile that had no doubt charmed his son and their dog. He held out his hand to Herc. “Shall we?”

* * * * *

They opted to stay in Raleigh’s room that night (“Mako is sleeping like the dead,” Raleigh had assured him). Even though they’d gotten Chuck’s ‘blessing’ albeit unorthodoxly, Herc didn’t want to push it with his son’s room so near to his own. It’s not that either of them were screamers (well, actually they _could_ be. They hadn’t done that much experimentation yet) but it was just the knowledge that made Herc want to be respectful.

They were naked on Raleigh’s bed with Raleigh straddling him again. Raleigh liked straddling him and Herc liked his weight. He found it to be a solid, comforting presence as he leaned back on the propped pillows. Raleigh had stripped him slowly, taking care not to jostle his arm in any way. What could have been a laborious process turned out to be one of the sexiest foreplay experiences Herc had ever had as Raleigh had worshipped every bit of new skin that had been revealed to him. His body was still tingling from all the attention. Now Raleigh was examining his injured arm with the intensity of someone solving a problem of quantum physics. 

“We don’t have to do anything, y’know,” Herc said, and he meant it too. Having Raleigh here was enough. 

Raleigh paused in his examination to spare Herc a brief of look of incredulity. “We’re making up for lost time,” Raleigh informed him. “That, and . . .” They might not have much time left. 

“Point taken,” Herc agreed quietly. With his good arm, he pushed Raleigh closer until he could kiss him. Raleigh met him half way, leaning forward and keeping his weight on the uninjured side of Herc’s body. 

“You’re good at that,” Raleigh said, grinning lazily. “Even with all that stubble burn,” he added, rubbing his cheek against Herc’s. 

“Stubble burn is sexy,” Herc said and Raleigh laughed softly, sitting back a bit. 

“I still remember the first time you kissed me in Manila,” he said and Herc found himself tracing the stubble burn with his thumb as he had done back then. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Nobody had ever ‘taken my breath away’ before,” Raleigh said with the sly arch of an eyebrow. 

Herc would’ve shrugged in response but it was too painful to do so. “Making out never goes out of style,” he said instead. 

“Even in your forties?” 

“ _Especially_ in your forties.” 

Raleigh laughed and said softly, “We’re going to be all right. You, me, Chuck. This is going to work.” 

Herc, whose fingers had been ghosting over the scars on the left side of Raleigh’s body, stopped the action. Raleigh’s statement carried a lot of assumptions, the first being that Operation Pitfall would be a success and that all of them would survive for things to be “all right.” He leaned forward and kissed a particularly deep scar on Raleigh’s shoulder. Raleigh had never had his shoulder rehabilitated properly, despite all the time he had spent in the hospital. It was remarkable that he was still as good a fighter as he was. 

“When did you become such an optimist?” 

“I’ve always been an optimist,” Raleigh told him. “I just stopped caring.” 

Herc glanced up at him. “Your timing sucks,” he pointed out. 

Raleigh nodded. “Story of my life,” he agreed. “Lean back. Let me take care of you.” 

And Herc did. 

 

**Fin.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! 
> 
> Once I decided to write this story, I also decided to make 'Drifting' a trilogy, so the good news is that I have at least one more _Pacific Rim_ fic in me. This fandom has proven to be a much more collaborative writing experience than I've had in the past, so with that in mind, I'm going to do something I've never done before. I'm going to offer two options for the final part of the trilogy, "That Morning" and try to accommodate what readers what to see. 
> 
> "That Morning" is going to be a post- _Pacific Rim_ fic. It was originally going to follow canon, continuing the relationship between Raleigh and Herc, but also dealing with Chuck's death and the general aftermath of the end of the Kaiju War. I can still write that. That's option one. 
> 
> Option two would be a canon-divergence treatment of _Pacific Rim_ , still dealing with Herc and Raleigh's developing relationship and the aftermath of the Kaiju War, but Chuck would survive. 
> 
> So, an angsty ending? A happy ending? What do you want to see? Let me know.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Pacific Rim_ belongs to Guillermo del Torro, Warner Bros and Legendary Pictures. No offense is intended, no profit is being made.


End file.
